


Blessed Fate

by Eastling (Annwyd)



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Brothers, M/M, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 00:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annwyd/pseuds/Eastling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The young reincarnation of the hero Arjuna summons the original version of the hero Karna--his brother and fated rival--to fight in the Holy Grail War. This is just one way that ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blessed Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [corinthian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinthian/gifts).



"Why?"

The boy called Arjuna stands over the hero called Karna, his hands at his sides. He should be shouting in victory; he's summoned the heroic spirit he always sought. He exists for this moment, from his prophesied birth to the present day. No, even before this version of Arjuna was born, he was destined for a confrontation with Karna. So why isn't he celebrating it now that it's finally occurred?

Instead, he looks down at the Servant before him, unable to bring himself to touch this man who was his brother in another life. "Why?" he asks again. "Why did I summon you?"

Karna looks up at him with serious eyes, accepting his frustration and his petulant anger without a word. "Wasn't I the Servant that you wanted?" There's no complaint in his voice, only curiosity.

That makes Arjuna hate him even more.

* * *

That night, Arjuna has the first of the killing dreams.

He sleeps at Karna's side. That makes it sound more romantic than it is. In truth, Karna is in spirit form, invisible and intangible, hovering over the side of the bed, watching for any threats to his Master.

He could do a better job of watching from outside the house. Unfortunately, his young Master is an irrational creature. Arjuna insists that Karna not be let out of his sight. What if some other Servant found him and killed him? That's not allowed. The only one who should be allowed to kill Karna is—

Arjuna dreams.

In his dream, his slim dark hands are around Karna's white throat, and he squeezes. His fingers are too weak to deliver the killing blow, though. Karna's pulse flutters with irritating persistence against his grip. It won't go away. This man, this hero, he's here to stay.

He squeezes tighter, feeling tissue tear and crush beneath his hands, but still—

Arjuna wakes up before he can see the light go out of Karna's eyes, in his dream.

* * *

They explore the city at dawn. Arjuna is silhouetted by the new light of the rising sun, but Karna is invisible. He easily eludes the pain of being physical, just as he eludes all the weight of human emotions that lies on Arjuna's shoulders.

"How is that fair?" Arjuna finally bursts out, as they stand on a rooftop.

"Master?" Karna smiles at him warmly, waiting for him to elaborate.

"We're brothers," Arjuna insists, "and I'm meant to be your superior. I'm meant to be the only one who can kill you!"

"We're partners this time," Karna says. "Isn't it better that way? That's what I always believed."

"That's not the point," Arjuna snaps. "You shouldn't be more powerful than me!"

"I see," Karna says. "If I find a way to make a Master as powerful as a Servant, I'll tell you about it right away."

Arjuna is enraged. "Don't be sarcastic to me! Just because you're the elder brother—!"

Karna looks at him in bewilderment. "Sarcastic?"

Arjuna realizes, too late, that his Servant was being completely sincere with his promise. He hadn't meant to make fun of him at all.

The moment Arjuna figures that out, he wants to throw up all over the roof.

* * *

The dreams come again that night, when they rest after bringing their explorations to a halt. Arjuna fights with himself so long and hard over whether to invite Karna to the dinner table that he barely eats a bite himself.

His dreams, therefore, are hungry.

Asleep in his comfortable bed, he dreams of kneeling over Karna's eviscerated body, wrenching his heart from a shattered rib cage and lifting it to his face. This is right and this is just; he is the blessed hero, meant to rule and conquer. It's his right to defeat his inferior older brother and make use of his body.

But he's still upset, and he wakes up in a cold sweat just before he can sink his teeth into Karna's bloody heart in the dream.

* * *

In the city proper, the other Masters are stirring. The war for the holy grail begins today. The family's spies bring back word in the afternoon that a battle has occurred, and Rider narrowly escaped defeat. They promise to track down the injured Servant and his Master so that Arjuna and Karna can take care of him.

"They think that's what I want," Arjuna tells Karna afterwards, on the balcony, his tone defiant. "But don't people like us deserve a glorious battle? Not cutting down an already debilitated foe in some lair."

"It's fine, Master," Karna says. "I'm happy to be fighting with you again." His voice is still soft and pleasant. Arjuna wishes it would be rough with eagerness; he wishes he could tell he was having an effect on his brother. But Karna keeps his composure as always.

"I hate it," Arjuna says, "and I hate you."

Karna lowers his head slightly in polite apology, without ever letting his shoulders slump to indicate actual regret. Then he turns to go.

"Don't you dare leave me, brother!" Arjuna hates himself for speaking before the words are even out of his mouth.

* * *

That night, Arjuna makes a point of having a full meal before the evening is over, but still his dreams are restless as if poisoned.

This time he has the selfsame bow and arrow with which his previous incarnation was once so gloriously trained. He fires at Karna, again and again, filling his pale body with sharp-tipped arrows over and over.

Still his older brother remains standing, though his body jerks and shudders with each arrowhead that lodges in it.

* * *

They fight their first battle the next day. Together, they face off against a surprise alliance of Rider and Caster, designed to lure them both into a trap.

"You didn't really think a team-up like _that_ could be concealed from other magi, did you?" asks the Master of Rider, scornfully, as she and Caster's Master corner Karna and Arjuna in the warehouse. "The magical signature of the two of you...it glows like a star every night. We know you're a threat."

"We're more than a threat," Arjuna says, glaring, even though he's wounded, blood flowing from his side. "We're your death."

He's exhilarated to realize that it's true. Rider and Caster are no match for his Lancer, and in no time at all Karna has defeated them both.

The only problem is that when it's done, he has to see Karna's face. He has to see his older brother looking silently down at the bodies fading away at his feet, then looking back up at him with a smile. "We won, brother."

"Shut up," Arjuna snaps. "Shut up and take me home!" His cheeks feel hot and he knows his eyes are blazing. He's never felt this good, never felt such joy as when standing triumphant over a battlefield with his older brother—

Except one other time. There's one other time he feels this happy. It's in his dreams, when he drives the life out of Karna's body.

"Take me home," he repeats, the anger still lurking in his voice.

* * *

He knows he'll dream again that night. He's not sure whether to dread it or look forward to it. To his surprise, though, Karna doesn't merely allow him to go to sleep as usual. Instead, he insists on quietly tending to his wound, his deft white hands moving skillfully with bandages between their fingers.

"Stop it," Arjuna mutters. "Stop touching me!"

"I'm sure it will be fine, brother," Karna says. "I just need to finish applying this bandage."

Arjuna finds himself leaning against Karna's head, his face buried in white hair. "Why do you bother," he mutters.

"You're my Master and my brother," Karna says.

"The previous me killed you," Arjuna says.

Karna is silent.

"I want to kill you, too," Arjuna says.

"I've been irritating, then," Karna says. "I'm sorry."

Arjuna grabs Karna's soft fluffy hair and yanks it furiously. "Don't! Say that! Don't say that! You don't know what 'irritating' even is, brother! You're pure. You don't know what it's like to have this darkness in you all your life."

Karna finishes bandaging his wound. "You should be fine now, Master," he says.

That night, Arjuna dreams of Karna's eyes soft and vulnerable beneath the clawing fingers of his right hand. The fingers of his left hand curl around the hilt of a sharp knife.

* * *

When they win the war for the holy grail, Arjuna finally cries. He's not a pretty crier. His eyes get puffy and his cheeks get smeared with sticky moisture and snot runs from his nose. He can't imagine a worse fate than to look so undignified in front of his waiting Servant and brother.

"Are you going to make a wish?" Karna asks, quiet and sincere. The edges of his body are starting to glitter as his physical form begins to dissipate.

Arjuna kicks him in the shin once, then again for good measure, before replying. "Idiot! Of course I'm going to make a wish!"

But he doesn't know what to wish for. All he wants is right here. He wants nothing more than to stand on a field of victory with his loved and hated brother.

"What do you want?" Karna asks him, unfazed by his own disappearing body.

"I'm getting exactly what I want, because you're going away," Arjuna insists. The words feel hollow in his mouth, pills with no powder in them that heal nothing.

He grabs Karna's fading hand and makes his wish.

"Every night, I want to sleep at your side. Every night, I want to kill you with my own hands. Every day, I want to curse you. Every day, I want to fight at your side."

The older brother blinks in mild astonishment as he stops vanishing.

* * *

That night, curled up against the warm form of his brother, Arjuna dreams of blood running through his hands, nestling in the lines of his palms. It's his brother's blood. He'll wake with clean hands and no one dead, and that will be the hardest thing to accept of all.


End file.
